


Loneliness

by Lleu



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 08:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2644340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lleu/pseuds/Lleu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>     <i>'There is no loneliness,'</i><br/>     <i>I said last night, when the wind blew among the trees,</i><br/>     <i>The waves beating (a sign of rain) did not bring</i><br/>     <i>Any sorrow to my heart,</i><br/>     <i>And no one with me under the roof.</i></p><p>Alanna is right: Thom <i>is</i> lonely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loneliness

**Author's Note:**

> Title and epigram from the English translation of Séamas Ó Céileachair's poem "Uaigneas" ("Loneliness").

Alanna is right: Thom _is_ lonely, although he’d never admit it to anyone, even his sister. _Especially_ his sister.

For all that he waves away her concerns about his isolation from both his peers and the Masters, it’s not an easy life. There’s no-one (besides, of course, Alanna herself) that he’d call friend at the moment. Even after he passes his Ordeal of Sorcery (the “delicate work” of the older Masters proves easy to repair) and comes to the capital, he does not make many.

Still, some of Alanna’s former companions are friendly enough. Sir Myles, though not a sorcerer himself, is knowledgeable enough to match any of the Masters in the City of the Gods, and Thom finds he enjoys the older man’s company. Myles knows more than anyone Thom has ever met about the Old Ones who inhabited these lands long before most historical memory.

The younger Gareth of Naxen, — “call me Gary,” he says when he and Thom are introduced — though not Thom’s intellectual equal, at least makes bearable small talk, and he is sociable enough to hold up two sides of a conversation by himself, a trait Thom appreciates.

There are others, too, who greet him in corridors and smile pleasantly at him over the evening meal. Raoul of Goldenlake, the squires Geoffrey and Sacherell, and a few others among the younger knights.

Two men at the court stand out, for very different reasons. Alexander of Tirragen, once squire to the Duke of Conté, is never _impolite_ to Thom, but neither is he particularly _pleasant_. He is simply…short. occasionally on the verge of rudeness, but never crossing the line. Thom is not particularly surprised, although he knows Alanna once counted the young man as a friend.

The other is the young prince. Jonathan of Conté is the opposite of Sir Alexander: infinitely pleasant, patient with Thom’s occasional social lapses, and understanding of the young sorcerer’s desire for privacy and solitude. Thom can be charming enough when he needs to, but doing so always leaves him exhausted.

Knowing that it is his duty to protect Jon (as the prince has requested that Thom call him), he takes advantage of this opportunity to get to know their future monarch better. The prince is kind and fair in all his dealings, and unfailingly loyal to Alanna. Thom suspects their relationship may have been more than just that of knight and squire, or even friend and friend, although neither Jonathan nor Alanna, in her infrequent letters from the desert, says anything about it. He knows the Rogue is in love with his sister — perhaps the prince is, as well.

Slowly, Thom finds himself opening up to the man’s friendliness. Jon asks him about his sister and the childhood he and Alanna shared, and Thom is happy to tell him about it: the long hikes Coram would take them on (Alanna eagerly keeping pace with the guardsman, Thom struggling to keep up, twenty or thirty paces behind them), their early magic lessons with Maude (his eagerness to learn everything she could teach, Alanna’s reticence — especially when it came to healing magic, for which she had a particular gift and of which he could master only the basics), their father’s complete disinterest in his children’s upbringing.

To Thom’s surprise, as time goes on, Jon begins to ask about _him_. His life in the convent, an environment the prince can hardly conceive of, during the first years of his education. The quality of teaching Thom received from the priests when he began his formal training. They compare notes on their lessons, laughing at the commonalities (both of them had one teacher during whose lessons they simply could not remain awake. for Jon, it was philosophy; for Thom, theology): some things are the same everywhere.

And, of course, Thom is more than happy to talk of magic, when the prince asks. Jonathan is not an untalented sorcerer, though the martial arts have occupied more of his training, and Thom finds him to be surprisingly well grounded in magical theory (this is especially surprising given Alanna’s description’s of Duke Roger’s magic lessons). Jon explains that he thought it best to learn the foundations of the Gift, as well as its practical applications. Thom couldn’t agree more, and says so. Then he flushes and apologizes: he sometimes becomes overenthusiastic where magic is concerned. Jonathan waves the apology away and tells him to think nothing of it.

He’s lonely, still, but the loneliness is less than it was. There are few other sorcerers at the Court to be jealous of his youth and power. Duke Baird, the healer, is friendly enough to Thom, but they have little in common, and there are no other mages of particular note, except the prince.

Thom is working in his room late one night when there’s a light knock on the door. He turns to look at it, surprised. Who could be calling at this hour?

When he opens the door, he finds Jon standing outside it.

"May I come in?" the prince asks.

"Of course," Thom says, stepping aside and gesturing for him to enter. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I found myself desiring company," Jon says, "and I thought you might still be awake."

Thom smiles. “You know the hours I keep.”

"And I took the liberty of looking at your window and seeing the candle still burning," Jon says, smiling back. "I hope I’m not interrupting anything."

"Nothing important," Thom says; it’s mostly true. His experiment will not suffer if he finishes it when he wakes up in the morning. Or, more likely, given the hour, in the afternoon. "Is there something on your mind?"

Jonathan hesitates. He looks… _nervous_? But that’s impossible; Thom dismisses the thought. How could _he_ make the prince of Tortall nervous?

"You," Jon says finally.

"Me?" Thom is understandably confused.

"I am…not sure how to say this," Jon says. He _is_ nervous.

"My sister would tell you to spit it out and be done with it," Thom says, with a wry smile, "though having been on the receiving end of that bit of advice, I know it isn’t always that easy."

"No," Jon agrees, managing a faint smile, "it isn’t."

"Is everything all right?" Thom asks. "You’re not…unwell, or anything like that?"

"I am in very good health," Jon says.

"Good," Thom says. "Alanna would kill me if anything happened to you while she was gone, and as you know I’ve never had much luck with healing magic."

"Thom—" Jon starts to say, then falters. Then he leans in and, to Thom’s shock, kisses him.

The prince’s mouth is warm, and his skin is soft — part of Thom wonders if Jon shaved before coming to knock on his door. The rest of him is in shock. Well, most of the rest of him. Another part of him is telling him he should move his arms to wrap around the prince’s broad shoulders. Indeed, he realizes suddenly that one of Jonathan’s hands is resting lightly on the back of his neck.

Then Jon breaks the kiss, and the most of Thom that was in shock manages to put together words. Or _a_ word, anyway. “Alanna—?”

Jon pulls back as if Thom had struck him. Unsure what he did wrong, Thom tries again: “I thought—you and my sister—?”

"I love your sister," Jon says, after a moment.

"Then…?" Thom starts, but trails off, unsure where to go next.

"You’re wondering if I’m confused, maybe, or if I only kissed you because you look like her," Jon says. "and you’re worried about betraying her trust."

"Yes," Thom says. There’s more to it than that, but he’ll let Jon say his piece first.

"I admit," Jon says, "part of the reason I was drawn to you at first was because of Alanna. But she is not here, and you are not your sister. She is not why I kissed you, Thom. _You_ are.”

Thom’s jaw moves a few times, but no sound comes out. Finally, he gets the words out: “Why me?”

Jon shrugs. “I honestly don’t know. I just know that I enjoy our conversations, — our friendship, if you’ll allow me to presume that you would call me friend — and that…I would enjoy more than that, if you felt the same.”

Thom considers this. “Alanna was right, you know,” he says, after a long moment.

"About what?" Jon asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Many things," Thom says ruefully, "but don’t tell her I said so. In particular, though, she was right to think I was lonely, before."

"Before?"

"Now I find I almost enjoy some people’s company," Thom says.

"And am I ‘some people’?" Jonathan asks, taking a step closer.

"You are," Thom says, reaching out to cup Jonathan’s cheek with his hand. "You are."

"Good," Jon says, and then Thom, surprising himself as he does so, kisses him. Jon smiles when the kiss ends, and Thom leads him to his bed. Perhaps he _has_ made a friend, after all.


End file.
